The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman 2) - Page 13

I locked the trailer and leaned my back against it, crossing my arms over my chest. “Okay. I’ll drop some off tomorrow.”

“There’s no rush.” He tried so hard to be nonchalant with me.

“Okay.” I nodded several times. “So … I’ll drop them off tomorrow.”

He fought his grin, but it won.

I won.

“I guess tomorrow is fine.”

I didn’t know who Angie got when they were together. I didn’t know the anxiety ridden Fisher my mom had told me about.

My Fisher was still in his skin. Too cool for his own good.

A streak of crudeness.

And a little extra.

“I was uh…” he tipped his chin to his chest “…looking through pictures on my phone. And I came across some of you and one of us. We were in the mountains. Your hair was longer. But other than that, you looked the same. Do you remember that?” Fisher forced his gaze up to meet mine. Confusion ate into his face along his brow and at the corners of his eyes.

I smiled. “Yes. My memory is fine.”

“And … what were we doing? Was Rory there too? She wasn’t in any of the pictures.”

“No. It was just us. Rory was in California for work. I had never been in the mountains, and I really wanted to go. But both you and Rory had a little fit over me driving there by myself. So you took me. On your motorcycle. We stopped at that lookout point and snapped a few pictures. Then we ate pizza at Beau Jo’s pizza on our way home. It …”

My grin swelled. “It was a good day. A great day, really. My first time in the Rockies. My first time on the back of a motorcycle. My first time dipping thick wheat pizza crust in honey.”

He nodded slowly. “So we did stuff outside of work?”

“Sometimes. We went on a double … well … triple date once. Arnie invited me to one of his concerts. You and Angie were there, and my friend and her boyfriend joined us as well. I was underage; therefore, I was the DD that night.”

“Huh …” He inched his head side to side. “It’s so weird. Like Angie showing me a million photos and videos from our time together, and nothing is familiar. I don’t remember the trip to the mountains or the concert.”

On an easy smile, I stood straight and uncrossed my arms. “Well, I remember for the both of us.”

“You don’t appear bothered that I don’t remember. Angie seems on the edge of going nuclear after we’ve spent hours trying to jog my memory with the photos and videos.”

I nodded slowly. “I think love—the good kind—holds an equal mix of wonder and familiarity. That feeling like you know someone, yet you also know parts of them are still a mystery that you can’t wait to slowly discover. If there’s no wonder, I think the love can die. If there’s no familiarity, I think the love already feels dead. If I were the one marrying you, I would be bothered more than I am. But you chose her.”

Oh … my … sweet … lord …

That was not the right choice of words. And as much as I hoped and prayed Fisher would let my word choice slip by without a second thought, it didn’t happen.

“I chose her?”

FUCK!

Yes, I adopted that word into my vocabulary, like a favorite tool in a toolbox that I used only on a need-to basis.

“Gosh…” I twisted my lips and rolled my eyes dramatically “…that sounded really weird, didn’t it?” For good measure, I threw in an awkward laugh. “I’m so freaking tired from long days of driving. I meant proposed.” I shook my head. “Yeah, that’s what I meant. You proposed to her. Just her. Not like you had a choice between her and someone else. At least … not that I know of. And definitely not me, of course, because until your accident, I hadn’t seen you in five years. Gah …” I covered my face with my hands. “Please just tell me to shut up.”

He smirked just like the Fisher I knew five years earlier. Like the Fisher who didn’t choose me. The Fisher who was finally willing to take my virginity with the understanding that my husband (not him) would thank him someday.

“I find your rambling too entertaining to tell you to shut up.”

“Go home and find your fiancée entertaining.”

Something between a grunt and laugh left this chest. “I’ll do my best.”

“Night, Fisher. Thanks for your help.”

He turned and headed down the sidewalk. “Anytime.”

Chapter Seven

I played it cool the next day for a full three hours after waking before I walked the crossword puzzles over to Fisher’s house. Rory and Rose were at work, and I didn’t start my job until the following week, so no one was keeping tabs on me.

Tags: Jewel E. Ann Fisherman Romance
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